8.17.2004

One wedding detail I haven't dreamed about since I was but a little girl: the amazing amount of packing materials with which I'd be inundated upon receiving a single gift from my registry. For a reducer/reuser/recycler like me, this is almost a prison/curse. I don't like throwing the stuff away, sensing that someday I might just need a couple dozen cubic feet of bubble wrap, styrofoam peanuts, tissue paper, and gift boxes. But the amount of storage space it takes is possibly prohibitive. We've only received a couple gifts, and already my little nooks and crannies where I usually stash this stuff are overflowing. We'll see...

8.12.2004

There is a plague in San Francisco...a plague of bad drivers, all afflicted with a strange sickness, shockingly common, exceedingly irritating, highly dangerous to surrounding beings: this sickness I am speaking of is the inability to warn of an impending left turn via turn signal.

What's strange is that their turn signals obviously work. I know this because once the light turns green, the sick people turn their signals on. But before, as they are driving up to a light--or worse yet, as they sit at the light letting unsuspecting cars pile up nice and tight in a line behind them--they give no warning that they are about to block the intersection for almost the entire duration of the green light. (This is how it is in San Francisco, where the protected left turn light/lane combo is a rare, precious luxury.)

In other news, is anybody else just loathing Six Feet Under this season?